


Firsts

by peterplanet



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Smut, kinda i mean if u squint but :/
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-08 14:51:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18625477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterplanet/pseuds/peterplanet
Summary: a list of all of her favorite firsts with her (second) favorite parker.





	Firsts

➳  ** _the first date_**

Peter had been nothing but nerves when it came to asking her out. She knew that he liked her because it was impossible for him to keep secrets from her, impossible for her to remain in the dark about the way that his heart stuttered for her. She was the sun and he was little Pluto, revolving around her slowly and distantly because of his ever-crushing fear of rejection.

He’d seen her around his apartment a lot. May had hired her once to house-sit a few years ago while she and Peter took a week-long vacation where they went sight-seeing around New York. It hadn’t been much, hadn’t been an expensive trip because of May’s small budget and his inability to sit still in cars or planes for long periods of time without getting anxious (his spidey-senses heightened him a lot and made it difficult for him to sit still, something that drove his classmates wild as he clicked his pens and rattled his legs), but it still ranked as one of the best vacations he’d ever taken with May.

It had happened right after Uncle Ben died. May had decided that the two of them needed a little break from reality, but she had felt uneasy about leaving the apartment. (Y/N), after hearing about the situation from Ned Leeds, had found Peter after school one day and offered to house-sit for him and May. She hadn’t brought up the passing of his uncle or asked if he was okay, even though the bags under his eyes and their bloodshot look had to be more noticeable than ever (it had been his first day back at school and it had been one of the worst days of his life).

 _“I don’t mind popping in every now and then to check on things!”_ She’d said with her soft demeanor, with her ever-gentle approach.  _“Really, it’d be no problem if your aunt wanted me to stay there for the week, either. Just let me know, okay? Everyone deserves a vacation, especially the Parkers.”_

She’d never brought up the fact that the trip was definitely going to be to remember Ben. She’d never made it about his loss—never brought it up later, either. If Peter didn’t know her better, if he hadn’t had classes with her before then or known her through Ned, he would have thought that she didn’t know about his uncle’s death at all.

After her week of house-sitting at the Parker residence, May had made it a point to invite her over for dinner at least once a week. May had always known about his crush on her in that motherly way of hers, always teased him about it in private and made jokes about it in front of (Y/N). If (Y/N) didn’t get the hint that Peter liked her from his actions, she definitely had to get the hint from May.

May had been giving him pep-talks for weeks, now. She’d been telling him that (Y/N) liked him back, that she was equally interested in him as he was in her. She could see it all, she’d said, in the  _“flush of her cheeks”_ and the  _“look in her eyes”._  He’d started to believe her, started to see it all spelled out in the girl that she was just as smitten for him as he was for her, but it didn’t take away the nervous stutter when he finally asked her out.

Their first date hadn’t been anything fancy. It hadn’t been flashing-lights, Italian food, or anything of the sort; rather, he’d taken her to his and May’s favorite Thai restaurant. It was the place where May made bad puns, told him that she  _“larbs”_ him, and was the only place that he could think of to take someone as sweet as (Y/N) out.

She’d worn a peach-colored sundress and they’d taken the subway to get there. May had offered to drive them, but Peter felt as though he’d much rather take a noisy, crowded subway over May’s teasing—however well-intended it was.

He’d struggled for five of the ten minute ride to think of something to say as he battled over whether or not he could hold her hand. They had chosen a time right at rush-hour to eat, so the Queens subway was crowded and stuffy. This had left them with no other option than to sit next to each other, so close that their legs were touching, so close that Peter could feel the warmth of her skin against his jean-clad thigh.

“You can hold my hand, Peter,” she’d murmured as she leaned her head on his shoulder, her smile soft as she peered up at him through her lashes.

It was then that Peter realized that she was wearing makeup. He rarely saw her with any on at school unless she’d woken up too early and couldn’t get herself to go back to bed, or it was picture day, so it astounded him that she’d taken the time to put it on for him. He didn’t feel as though she needed it to be attractive, as though she needed it to be beautiful, but he did like how soft it made her features look and how pretty her highlight was. Her eyeshadow caught his attention, the slight amount of eyeliner making his palms sweaty as he took her hand in his.

“Y-You look really nice by the way, (Y/N),” he’d replied in a voice so soft that she had to strain to hear it over the din of the subway. “Like, you’re so…your makeup is really, really pretty.”

He’d started to flush crimson as he looked at her, as he watched her eyes grow and her own cheeks start to flush under her foundation. It made him feel a little bit proud to see her so starstruck by him, to see her look as bashful for once as he always felt around her.

“Thanks, Pete,” she’d managed to reply after a moment’s stunned hesitation. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

After that comment and a playful nudge sent his way with her elbow, they’d settled back into their comfortable silence before getting to the Thai restaurant. He’d pulled out her chair for him after leading her to their table, pushed her in as gently as he could as he grew mindful of his super-strength and aware of just how far he’d go to ensure that he didn’t hurt her on accident, and sat across from her. He was bashful suddenly despite the fact that they’d sat across from each other at lunch, despite the fact that they’d sat next to each other at a lab table in chemistry for an entire semester.

She must have been able to sense the nervous energy surrounding him, because she reached for his hand across the table and squeezed it gently when he placed his sweaty palm in hers.

“This is the place that you and May always come, right?” She’d asked as she studied the menu, her (e/c) gaze flittering up to lock with his every now and then. “Like, whenever she burns dinner or you guys need a night out?”

“Yeah, it is,” he’d rushed to reply, anxiously shaking his leg under the table. “I-Is it okay that we came here? Is it too weird to take you to the same place that my aunt always takes me? Should we have gone somewhere else, somewhere nicer? I-I just…I really wanted to impress you and this place always impresses me, so—”

“Peter, Peter, hey, look at me.” (Y/N)’s (e/c) gaze was locked on his as she squeezed his hand, drawing him back into the moment with the ease that she’d always had. She was always good with him, always so kind and patient when he’d experience his random bouts of anxiety.

“This is perfect,” she’d assured him in a tone so stable, so secure and kind that it instantly calmed his racing heart. Her smile was soft, barely there and it sent his stomach into somersaults if he looked at her for too long; his gaze was flittering around her face, nervous to look at one spot for too long lest he start to melt because of his affection for her. “I’m really honored that you thought to take me to a place so special to you, y’know? You obviously love it here, and it probably holds a lot of good memories with you and May; I just hope that I can help you make some even better memories here.”

If Peter wasn’t so nervous and couldn’t feel his heart speeding up in his chest, it would have stopped right there. For (Y/N) to be so sweet with him, so kind and genuine in a moment where others would have eaten him alive or made fun of him for months was equivalent to making a new formula for his webs or an update to his suit. It was like Christmas to a kid, like finding out that he had gotten everything on his list and then some.

They ordered their food soon after that and made small-talk about their classes. They talked about the latest school drama, the worst teachers they’d ever had, and as dessert rolled around Peter’s sides hurt so badly from all of the laughter that they’d shared.

When the check came and Peter took it without hesitation, she’d fought with him over it for a minute. May had told him that a girl who fought him over a bill on the first date was a girl to keep around for a while. He just never thought that she’d want him to stick around, too.

* * *

**➳** **_the first kiss_ **

Peter Parker has kissed girls before. He’s always been the first to be thrown into dumb games of seven-minutes-in-heaven or spin-the-bottle at the few parties he’s gone to. That doesn’t mean that seeing (Y/N) in his bed doesn’t make him nervous, doesn’t mean that seeing her in general isn’t an anxiety-inducing experience.

They’re studying for an upcoming chemistry test in his room. Surprisingly, May has left them alone as she went to grab some dinner for all of them—which is surprising because she has a strict “door open” policy in the Parker residence. (Y/N) hasn’t mentioned this fact, hasn’t brought up that they’re alone in his apartment for the next hour or so, so he has decided to not bring it up, either.

This has led to some very evident tension in the air as she works out one of the stoichiometry problems laid before her. She seems irritable, eyes crinkled in disappointment as she tries to piece it all together. Chemistry has never been one of her favorite subjects, but Peter knows that she still takes it as an excuse to spend time with him. Even though they’re dating, he’s realized that (Y/N) will take any chance that she can get to spend time with her boyfriend.

“Peter,” she breathes out in a soft, irritated tone. Despite how angry she sounds, Peter can’t help but focus on the curve of her lips and how soft they seem—he knows that she’s been using a new lip balm, he’s just never noticed the effect of it before. He’s entranced by how his name sounds coming out of her lips despite the irritated tone that surrounds it and he can’t help but wonder how it might sound if she were moaning it.

That thought alone turns his cheeks a furious shade of red that travels along his neck. He’s thought of her in that sense before, sure, but never with her in the room. It feels degrading, somehow, as though she can hear his thoughts and knows how impure they are. It’s not as if she can feel the sin radiating off him, he reasons. Right?

But this is (Y/N). (Y/N) who knows him better than he knows himself, knows the intimate crevices of his heart and could read him like a book (she’s said before that he’s her favorite, a comment that he reasons will be forever ingrained in his mind).

“Peter?” Her tone is less irritated this time as she takes in the flush of his cheeks and the way that he’s biting his lip. He rarely does that anymore—that was a bad habit that he fell into after his uncle’s death that she, Ned, and Michelle worked to get him to stop. To see him do it only makes her worried mind worsen in a way that he would never stand for because Peter Parker hates to know that his girlfriend is in distress.

“Are you okay? I asked you to help me with this problem a few minutes ago, and you’ve just been looking at me. Did I do something?”

Peter is stricken with guilt under this question. To know that she blames herself for his uneasy disposition is to know that he has failed her. He’s shaking his head and running his hand across his face to try and clear his head of all of his impure thoughts that he knows he needs to confess. He needs her to know how he’s been thinking about her so that there’s an open honesty within their relationship; it’s something that May has always made him promise to do in any of his relationships, whether they be platonic or romantic.

“No, no! Fuck, (Y/N), you didn’t do anything, ‘m sorry. I’m just…thinking.” He has to pause here to catch his breath, but he can’t give her enough time to respond. If she asks him if he’s okay, he knows that he’s going to lose all momentum and stop speaking altogether.

“I mean, you’re just so fucking pretty, even when you’re not focused on how you look. You’re doing stoichiometry, which is by far the least sexy thing known to man, and all I can think about it kissing you. And then, you said my name in that breathy way that you always do, and I wasn’t like,  _‘Aw, that’s so cute!’_ I was thinking about what it’d sound like for you to moan my name and—oh, fuck, that was too much, wasn’t it?” He’s burying his face in his hands now, too afraid to see her reaction to his confession.

If he were to look, though, he’d see the bright smile that’s crossed her features. She’s grinning at him and her head is tilted to the side in that cute way of hers as a steady flush coats her cheeks, her eyes taking in his flustered features.

Gently, because (Y/N) is always gentle with Peter, she takes one of his hands away from his face to hold it. Now, he’s looking at her with only one eye as the other remains covered.

“Peter, it’s okay that you’re thinking of me like that. I’m not grossed out to know that you want to kiss me, or to know that you think about me moaning your name. I never want to force you into anything, okay? And I know that you would never, ever force me into anything. But, if you wanted to kiss me tonight, tomorrow, or in three to five business days, I wouldn’t stop you. I might even kiss back.” She’s grinning now, nudging his shoulder with hers as his cheeks flush a darker shade of red. “Don’t be embarrassed that you want to be physical with me in our relationship. May has an open-door policy for a reason—I bet she expects you to break it.”

Peter moves their books so that they’re out of the way after he takes his hand away from his face so that he can see his girlfriend properly. He supposes that, sometimes, he forgets that they’re dating. He still cannot fathom the reality that they are together, falling in love (or, at least he hopes that she is, because he knows that he is), and that he can hold her hand whenever he’d like. It’s even harder for him to fathom that he could kiss her if he so pleased.

He moves so that they’re sitting closer to each other. His knees are touching hers as they sit cross-legged, and the butterflies are rising in his chest as he tries to think around how close they are. He can smell her perfume from where he sits, can almost taste her shampoo with every inhale. She smells like what he imagines the moon would smell like if it were personified, like soft nights and the stars. That doesn’t make sense when he thinks about it, but he supposes that it was never meant to.

“C-Could I, uhm, kiss you…now?” His breath is shaking, his hands are shaking, but he’s surprised to find that his voice doesn’t. It’s calm, steady as he looks at her with his wide, wondering brown gaze.

“If you’re sure that you want that, yeah,” she’s breathing out her words as softly as he imagines a star would speak. He almost has to strain to hear her, almost has to lean in closer to understand what she’s saying, but if he did, he supposes that he might just kiss her. It takes a bit of thinking to realize that she probably planned that, but in the moment, Peter can only think about how  _fucking_ hard she is to hear.

She’s flushing as he studies her features. He wants to memorize this moment so that he never forgets it, so that it is a part of him that he can never let go of for as long as he lives. He wants to remember the rise and fall of her chest, the gentle way that she’s staring at him. He never wants to forget how soft she looks in this moment, how he thinks that she looks like an angel.

And then, he’s kissing her. His mind has blurred the moments before and he wishes, Peter Parker fucking  _wishes,_ that he could remember the way that her eyes fluttered closed in anticipation of the kiss. He wishes that he would remember if her breath hitched—it did—and if he could hear his own heartbeat or hers in the silence that enveloped the room.

All that he can remember is how soft her lips felt against his, how soft her skin was when he moved his hand to cup her jaw in his hand. He can remember the taste of her cherry lip balm and the thought he had to buy her all of the flavors he could find just to see how they tasted on her lips. He can remember the first tepid brush of his tongue against her lip, the way that she shivered for him when he did and opened her mouth. He can remember the way that she moaned when his tongue brushed hers for the first time, the way that his heart raced when she placed her hands against his chest to hold herself steady.

But most of all, Peter Parker remembers that their first kiss was the first moment that he knew that (Y/N) was the type of girl you fall in love with, the type of girl that he could fall in love with.

* * *

**➳**   ** _the first “I love you”_**

Peter Parker knew that he was in love with (Y/N) when they had been together for four months. She had been his best friend, his constant companion, and the one that he saw himself being in a long-term relationship with. She knew about his alter-ego, knew that the Stark Internship was just a cover-up for his real nightly activities.

On the nights that his patrols take a negative turn, (Y/N) is the one that he goes to for medical assistance. He’d never go to her if it was more serious than a few deep cuts, the occasional bruise. He knew better than that, and so did Mr. Stark. He knew that she didn’t need that type of stress, so Mr. Stark had installed a panic-button on his suit. If things went poorly and he couldn’t hit the button, there were in-suit monitors that kept a constant watch on his vitals. If something went badly, Mr. Stark would know and would be able to get him proper help.

Today, Peter had planned to spend time with (Y/N). It was the first day of their Christmas break, meaning that they had two weeks of time that they’d be able to spend with her. She’d be spending time with him and May on Christmas Eve, and he’d be spending time with her family the day after Christmas. It was almost as though their families knew that they were going to be constants in each other’s lives and they were planning on making sure that they got to know their children’s first loves.

Peter had prepared everything. He had snacks in his room that ranged from sweet, to sour, to salty, and he was currently working on getting the popcorn ready for them to start their movie marathon. It was a staple of any of their sleepovers that they’d stay up as late as they could—meaning, until one of them fell asleep—and they’d wake up tangled in each other’s arms. Honestly, these were some of his favorite memories that he held with (Y/N) throughout the course of their relationship.

He knew that they were young still. He knew that they had the rest of their lives to fall in love with each other, or other people; but, Peter also knew that what he felt towards (Y/N) was no longer a strong  _like_.

She was the first person that he thought of when he woke up. She was the last person that he thought of when he went to bed. As cheesy as it sounds, Peter knew that he loved (Y/N) because of the way that she was with May.

(Y/N) would often joke that Peter was her second favorite Parker, that May was her first. And, despite how Peter would become playfully angry with her, he’d never admit how it made his heart melt to hear it. All he wanted in his significant other was that they got along with May, so for (Y/N) to do so meant more than he could ever express. But, for May to feel the same way about her was more incredible than he could ever express. It was all that he had ever wished upon falling stars for, all that he had ever prayed for.

May loved (Y/N). She’d always loved her, sure, but it was different now that she was dating her nephew. The love that she felt towards the young girl had turned motherly, had taken a turn so drastic that Peter would often come home from midday weekend patrols to find (Y/N) and May doing face masks and watching dramatic shows on T.V. May and (Y/N) love to watch  _The Bachelor_ and  _The Bachelorette_ , as well as  _Grey’s Anatomy_. He knows that there are more shows that they watch together, more things that they do together than sit and watch television on Saturday afternoons, but it feels weird for him to intrude on that. Just as May gives him privacy with his relationship with (Y/N), he’s opted to give her the same respect.

He trusts his girlfriend not to spill dirty secrets from their relationship. He trusts her even more not to let it slip that he’s Spider-Man because she knows what his aunt means to him. If May was to know about his alter-ego, it would crush her. It would mean that there was an aspect of his life that she couldn’t protect, a way that she had failed him. And (Y/N) loves May, Peter knows, so if she’s not keeping everything a secret for him, she’s doing it for May.

All of this has led Peter to the conclusion that he is in love with his girlfriend. They haven’t been together long—four months is hardly the length of one semester at Midtown—but Peter knows that she loves her because of how May loves her. That isn’t the only reason, though.

He loves her because she still insists that he wake her up to patch up his wounds, even if she’s bleary-eyed in class the next day. She wants him to text her to say how his patrols went, even if she’s asleep. She wants to wake up to a message of his safety, wants to know that he’s made it home safely after his swings to her bedroom window.

When he brought up the question of her safety—after all, the bad guys  _have_ to see him swinging into her bedroom night after night—she brushed him off easily.

 _“Peter,”_ she’d said in that soft way of hers, the breathy way that she always said his name,  _“I’d rather risk my safety over your physical health.”_

It was that moment added onto all of the times he’d seen her interact with May that he knew he loved her. If he had to think of one specific instance, the one moment that he just  _knew_ , Peter knows that he couldn’t. He didn’t fall in love with her all at once, he did not crash into her with a love that was open-arms and free laughter; rather, Peter Parker fell in love with her slowly.

He reasons that he first fell in love with her laugh. He fell in love with the way that her eyes closed when he told a joke so funny that he could hear every snort, every breathy laugh that she tried to hide from him. He fell in love with the way that she breathed his name when they first see each other, the way that she smiles when he hands her a cup of coffee on a Monday morning that’s so perfect it has her bouncing off the walls by first period. He fell in love with the way that she treats May, with the respect that she treats everyone important to him. He fell in love with her compassion, her understanding, her genuine love for everyone around for her.

Peter Parker knows that he is in love with his girlfriend, he just doesn’t know how to tell her that he is.

It might be easy for some people, he figures. Easy enough that he could do it over coffee, hand it to her in the morning and give her a kiss despite her protests (and MJ’s distant gagging) before he lets the words tumble out of his lips. He could tell her on their walks to the subway station after school; he could take her hand in his, let her interlock their fingers before he tells her that he loves her. He could tell her in any way imaginable, but it still would not be enough for him. It wouldn’t measure up to be enough for her.

Peter wants to tell her in an eloquent, well-versed manner. He wants to confess everything to her under the stars that she breathes, wants to make her feel the weight of the moon as he tells her those three words that have haunted him. He wants to make her feel as valued as she is, as important as she has been to him over the past four months. But most of all, Peter wants to hear (Y/N) tell him that she loves him, too.

The way that he winds up telling her isn’t as romantic as he would have hoped. They’re sitting in his bedroom as a movie plays in the background. He’s pretending to watch as she keeps her attention focused solely on it. But, if there’s one thing that (Y/N) knows about her boyfriend, it’s that he’s god-awful at pretending to do anything.

“Peter?” Her voice is not breathy as she calls for his attention. She knows what repercussions that can carry, has felt them as he kissed away her breathy tone time after time.

“Hm?” His tone takes the breathy edge that hers usually has. His brown eyes are weighted with something heavier than infatuation, but she’s too terrified to admit this new conclusion.

She has never had anyone fall in love with her before. She’s never fallen in love, either. But, she knows that what she feels for Peter Parker is stronger than infatuation. She has fallen deeper than she ever thought possible for the boy; so deep, in fact, that she’s been contemplating asking him to go to the same college as her. She wants him so badly, wants him in the most desperate sense of that statement. She might be his moon and stars, but he’s her entire universe.

“Are you…Are you okay? You seem spaced out.” She reaches across the space that separates their bodies on his bed to stroke his curls away from his forehead. She writes a mental note to schedule him a hair appointment or remind him to do so. He always hates when his hair makes it hard to get his mask on.

Peter’s responding smile is brighter than the sun. His eyes are glistening as he looks at her from his position next to her on his bed. “’m fantastic, (Y/N),” he affirms. “Better than that, actually—I’m in love.”

When the words are out, Peter feels the air around them stop. He wishes that he could scoop them back up in his palms, shove them back in his mouth so that she never hears them. (Y/N) deserved to be told that she was loved by him in a different way, a softer way.

The air around them is stiff and Peter can feel his cheeks darken. He wants to ease the mood, remind her that she doesn’t have to say them back. Honestly, Peter Parker would be happy even if she never did; he now realizes that he isn’t asking her to love him back, he simply wants to be given the opportunity to love her.

“That’s good,” she breathes, her tone breathy in his favorite way. Every nerve of his is on fire as he waits for her to tell him something else, to tell him to leave (even though it’s his apartment), to tell him that she doesn’t know yet,  _anything._ He’s about to ask her about her math homework that isn’t due until they get back from break before her smile overtakes her features, bright and stunning so that she is no longer just his moon and stars. Now, she’s also his sun.

“That’s good,” she repeats in the same tone. “Great, actually, because I feel the same way. I’m in love with this Peter Parker kid, and it’s always good to hear that he might just love me, too.”

Peter doesn’t ever remember being so happy to have been referred to in the third person before that instant. While he merely wanted the chance to love her, he never said that he’d pass up the opportunity to be loved by her, too.

* * *

**➳**   ** _the first time_**

Peter Parker has never had sex before. In all honesty, he hasn’t even really considered it as a possibility. He never really thought about having a long-term girlfriend that he’d want to lose himself to, that he’d want to give such an intimate part of himself to. But, now that he knows that he loves (Y/N) and that she is just as in love with him, he can’t help but wonder if he might just be willing to give himself to her like that.

He knows that she’s never been with anyone sexually before. It’s not like they’ve had extensive discussions over this topic, but he knows that she was only with her last boyfriend for about three months before they broke up. They’ve been together for the better part of six months now, and she’s mentioned it briefly before. Neither of them has had sex before, but Peter knows that he would be willing to. With (Y/N), he’d be willing to try anything.

He brought it up in discussion once, he had asked her if she could see herself losing her virginity to him. His cheeks had flushed a fragile pink as the words left his mouth and, much like the first time that he had confessed his love to her, he wished that he could scoop the words up in his palms and shove them back in his mouth so that she never had to hear them spoken again.

 _“I mean, yeah,”_ she’d admitted in her breathy tone, cheeks flushed the same shade of pink as his,  _“I, yeah. I see you as my first, Peter, and a part of me hopes that you’re my only.”_

She’d been so soft as she said that, and Peter can still remember the way that her eyes crinkled as she said that. He can still remember how his heart melted, his walls of defense lowering as he realized just how deeply he loved her, how deeply he had the possibility to love someone.

The time had presented itself a few weeks after that conversation. (Y/N) had known that he was going to take the first chance he was presented with to have her over and make love to her—she knew that he’d never fuck her for the first time, she trusted that he’d make love to her because he was Peter Parker, a soft, love-filled boy—and that chance had come faster than she’d originally thought.

May was gone away for the weekend, heading into upstate New York to visit some old high school friends. She’d simply asked that Peter not throw any parties but said that he could have anyone visit overnight. And Peter knew that she had a hunch as to what might go down in her absence because she left him a package of condoms, tucked them away into his nightstand. It was her silent seal of approval, and it was all that Peter needed to feel confident about his choice to have (Y/N) stay overnight.

They’d put on a movie that they both knew they wouldn’t watch. He’d found it on Netflix, some dumb romantic comedy that (Y/N) would usually eat up if they didn’t have other things on their agenda.

He currently had her underneath him, his hips straddling hers as they kissed lazily. There was no rush to their movements, no speed to the goal that they knew they were headed towards. They had all night to feel this moment, to live in it and experience what it felt like to love and to be loved.

When their clothes started coming off, Peter had to take a moment to admire her breasts. He knew that it might be taken as chauvinistic, but he couldn’t help but admire them. His kisses, which had started to stray along her neck, slowly sank to the curve of her breasts. He nipped at the soft skin, his hips rutting against hers to create a combination of sensations that had her gasping his name.

“Oh, Peter,” she whined. Her tone was every bit breathy as he’d imagined on lonely nights, every bit better than what he could have ever dreamed possible.

He brought his lips down to the underwire of her bra, feeling his skin scratch against what he imagined to be a front-clasp. He had known that these existed, but it was suddenly dawning on him that it was supposed to be his job to get it off. Maybe it was better in the front, he reasoned—that way, he could see what his hands were doing. He didn’t know how wrong he could be.

His hands were inexperienced as they fumbled with the clasp. After a few moments that had sent his cheeks into a deep crimson shade, he could feel her soft chuckles underneath his fingertips.

“D’you need some help, Peter?” She asked in a soft tone, one that could never judge him. When he didn’t reply and kept trying to undo the clasp, she placed her hands over his and started guiding him through the motions.

“It’s okay, they’re hard at first! You just kinda push the two sides together, like this,” she guides his hands through the movements and he tries to ignore how that forces her breasts together ever-so-slightly. “And then you pull them apart, like this.” Once more, her hands guide his through the motions.

“You can ask me for help, okay? Just like I know I can ask you for help if I need it.”

He can’t help but kiss her after that confession. He knew that he wanted to lose himself to her tonight, but he just didn’t know how understanding she could be in a time like this. He didn’t fully understand just how amazing she could make his first time, just by being herself.

If Peter Parker could’ve lived in her soft giggles and happy expressions all night, he would’ve. If he could’ve lived in them for a life time—well, that might’ve been more than any reasonable sinner knew to ask for without doing the proper penance.


End file.
